He's a writer, you dunerheads
by PyrusAngel
Summary: A writers take on the finale of season 9. Welcome to a writer's take on how obvious Metatron's actions were, unless your name is Sam, Dean, or Castiel. Bad summary but then again it was a random idea that popped into my head.


Pyrus: Welcome! So I'm new to Supernatural but I love it (aka binge-watched all 9 seasons in 5 months). Now as a writer I have found Metatron's actions very predictable. So this is how this mini-oneshot was born.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing except my wondrous skills and ideas.

**He's A Writer, You Dunderheads**

**P.O.V Castie **

They all left. Every single one of my flock left me, all because I was weak. I glanced at Dean and Sam utterly spent and defeated. Sam looked at Dean and Dean stared at me and I just stared at the ground.

Suddenly a giggle broke through the awkward silence. We all turned wide eyed at the small girl sitting on a desk, an open book in her lap. I knew her, her name was Harahel, though she had begun to go by Levy here on Earth. She was a short girl with shoulder length brunette hair with blue streaks in her bangs. She wore dark blue framed glasses that highlighted her brilliant green eyes. She was dressed in a simple orange blouse over tan pants completed with a standard pair of heels.

"What's so funny, Harahel?" I asked, stunningly perplexed as she just flashed me a devious smile.

"Come one, spill!" Dean yelled, frazzled as hell.

"They're all as dumb as humans," She laughed closing her hand written leather book, "Don't you see what's going on?"

"AHHH, NO. If we did we wouldn't be in this mess." Dean barked stepping forward, but Sam caught him by the shoulder.

"Dean." Sam stated, while Levy popped off the desk and rolled her eyes.

"Metaron has always such a typical writer. He made those bombers." Levy stated shocking all of us as she turned to me, "You can't kill. Not humans." She glanced at Dean, "So how can those dunderheads think you'd have convinced those people to sacrifice themselves for you."

"Harahel." I stated as she stood before me.

"You're in love with humanity just like Dad was." Levy whispered touching his cheek gentle before turning to Sam and Dean, "Good luck boys."

Levy grinned at them before turning on her heel.

"WAIT!" I yelled, but she only giggled once before vanishing.

"Can't. Places to go and people to see." Levy replied waving back at them.

"Cas, who was that?" Sam asked.

"Harahel...Angel of Libraries."

"Well goodie for her. Let's go." Dean barked walking out the other exit where they had left the car.

Levy was sitting in a small inconsequential library in Castlewood, South Dakota when her head rang with Metatron's words. She cringed at the reverb and glanced around making sure none of the humans around her were paying her any heed before raising and moving into the back of the history section. No human ever went back there.

"I'd like to take a moment to welcome you all back," Metatron started again, "I want you to know how moved I am that you have accepted me as your new God." Levy's mouth fell open and she tried to stifle a sarcastic gag.

"My heart, as they say is full, which is why I want to share some wonderful news with you. I'm going on a short trip. Heaven's door will be temporarily closed pending my return, but rest assured all will be explained, and it will be glorious."

Levy rubbed her head and sat down onto the ground. This...this was a new development, she knew Metatron was about to make his next move, now that he had Cas out of the way. Levy sighed and pulled out her book.

It was a simple leather bound tomb of regular size, many of its pages filled with the goings on of the world ever since Dad had retired. Though she was originally only the caretaker of books, she had found a love for writing and storytelling herself when she had left heaven, three hundred years ago, to care for human libraries.

She ran a hand along her should and winced as she pulled out a concealed feather, its tip already dipped in black ink. She documented the latest developments of Metatron, adding in her own questions, comments, and ideas into the large margins.

When all was said and done she had filled another two pages with her miniscule writing. She tucked her feather back into her hidden wings before standing and making her way back to the main room of the library, her mind racing with ideas of what Metatron could possibly be planning.

"I'm going to need a better vantage point to watch the finale." Levy murmured changing direction and going out the main doors before disappearing into thin air.

Levy sat in her large personal library that sat beneath the Smithsonian Library. Her large blue chair was adorned with ancient carvings and symbolism, the most prominent being large book and quill that sat at the crown of the chair just above her head. Once more Levy was busy documenting the goings on of Metatron, Gadreel, Castiel, Dean, Sam, and Crowley.

"Honestly the only one thinking right for once is Gadreel." Levy murmured, though her gut told her Gadreel's change of heart would be his downfall. Levy sighed.

"Looks like I'll be making another trip before this is all done." Levy stood and moved swiftly across the room where her packed satchel sat.

Levy lounged on a beach her eyes turned up to the sky, watching the battles in heaven proceed. She lucked her hair behind her ear and grinned, adverting her eyes from the sky to jot something down in her book.

"Is the story turning out the way you fore saw it?" She asked over her shoulder.

Above her stood a tall man, his shadow hanging over her chair. Humans walked about the boardwalks behind them as the moon hung high in the air. The air was full of salt as Levy looked up at the man. He leaned down and kissed her on the head.

"I guessed you know," Levy stated, "so far at least."

"Harahel." The man stated in a most unassuming natural voice, "The best part is that I let them decide." Levy pouted.

"But..."

"No buts." The man stood there cast in shadows, "A writer has the freedom to will his characters into doing things, a true writer gives the characters the freedom to show the writer to the end of the book." The man then smiled and took a deep breath, "Even now my own characters make the most surprising of leaps, so much so that they can still surprise even me." He grinned, "Look there. I can see the stars are changing in a rather surprising way."


End file.
